The Dead Adventures of Fred Fools
by HarryPotterOTPs
Summary: Invisibility will drive you mad. For some reason, after he died, Fred never passed on, and now he has to watch his family in the aftermath. No one can see him. That is, until Jack Frost comes along. Could there be a rainbow by the end of the storm? Hp-ROTG crossover. Post-Battle of Hogwarts. A little time-tweaking in regards to ROTG.


**I don't own Hp or ROTG. Trigger-warning (deals with attempted-suicide)**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

And Now I'm Dead

* * *

_"You're joking, Perce! You actually are joking... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were –"_

There was a moment of tremendous pain, then nothing.

That was it. There was darkness and nothing else. Whoever claimed anything about a bright light was wrong. There was no light. No warm hug. No flashbacks of his life. Only endless darkness and the distant echoes of someone screaming.

But then again, maybe he wasn't dead.

He waited for the screaming to stop before opened his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows. Nope, still alive. He could have sworn...

"Bloody hell," he muttered to himself, standing up and wiping away the dirt on his clothing. "Now where's my wand?"

He found it under a rock to his left. That's when it hit him. Where was everyone else? Percy, Harry, Ron, Hermione... Where did they go? They wouldn't just leave him here unless...

"Oh Merlin, no!"

He sprinted down the corridor, skipping over the rubble and stray bodies that littered the floor. They thought he was dead! He had to go tell them. He had to tell them that he was alright! He could only imagine the look on their faces when he showed them that he was okay. They would all have a good laugh about it, he hoped.

He could see the Great Hall from where he was now. The sight alone was enough to give him that extra burst of energy.

He skidded to a stop just upon entering, looking around for his family. They weren't hard to find. The family of redheads always stood out, even in the biggest of crowds.

They were surrounding someone. Each one of them seemed sickly pale, especially George. Fred's heart shattered at the scene. Who could have had such an effect on the once-happy family?

He edged closer.

"Mum?"

No response.

"Dad?"

No response.

"George?"

George sobbed, turning around. Fred smiled, waiting for his brother to see him alive and well.

He was greatly disappointed when his brother didn't even notice Fred's presence as he clinged on to Percy for dear life.

"George, who is it?" Fred said, a bit louder than when he first spoke. He reached out to touch his brother.

Fred immediately regretted doing so.

His hand had gone straight through George. Fred pulled it back quickly, staring in horror at his hand. He inspected it, searching for something that would tell him what was wrong. Deep in his mind, he knew. He knew the reason for it, but he refused to believe it. He need more proof.

He got what he wished for. The person his family was crowding was him.

The noise around him disappeared. It was all blocked out by a high pitched ringing. The ringing that happens when your brain forgets about what you were doing. His vision was blurred as tears pooled in his eyes. The sudden realization hit him like an endless tidal wave.

He was dead.

The world around him was crumbling. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground. His hand flew to his chest, praying that he would feel his own heartbeat.

He didn't.

His chest was an empty cavity. A dead pulse. He was merely an invisible vessel now.

He gripped at the thin fabric, his head bowed in defeat.

Fred never felt so empty.

* * *

Despite his better judgment, he stuck around his family. He couldn't bear to permanently part with them. He wanted to make sure they were alright. He wanted to make sure that they would be happy.

They weren't. George especially.

It pained Fred so much to see all of them like this as they prepared for his burial. Countless times he found himself muttering jokes, hoping they would somehow hear him; urging them to move on and be happy.

He didn't know how many times he caught George staring at the knives in the kitchen or the muggle pills Hermione had brought over to help calm everyone's nerves.

"Merlin, George. Smile, won't you? Smile for the both of us," he whispered.

Fred was one to talk. He barely smiled himself.

How could he though? His mum was always crying. His father barely spoke and wasted his hours inspecting his muggle contraptions. Bill found comfort with Fleur. Charlie hid out in his room. Ginny and Ron were barely home, probably believing that avoiding the situation would help ease the pain. Percy was almost as bad as George. All Percy did now was blame himself. Constantly muttering apologies to his deceased brother for not being able to save him.

Although he was worried about all of them, he found himself worrying mostly about George. Figuratively, the young adult was standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down and hoping a rough wind would push him over.

The worst part was that Fred could do nothing to help.

* * *

Funerals are supposed to grant closure to those who have suffered a loss. It wasn't that way for the Weasley's. Fred, himself, could barely accept his own fate as his body was laid to rest while his ghost roamed the earth forever.

George hadn't been there. Fred had witnessed the screaming match between his parents and George that morning.

He had refused. Said that it was too much.

In the end, no one could get him to go.

And Fred could do nothing to help.

* * *

His father had once told him that muggles believed in an almighty being beyond this world. Fred never really understood it, but his father still insisted on his children praying to this almighty should they need to. There had only been one occurrence where he had been brought to getting on his knees to pray. That was when his father had been attacked near the Department of Mysteries.

Once more, he found himself kneeling at the side of a hospital bed and begging for a miracle.

George had given into his thoughts.

And Fred could do nothing to help.

* * *

Invisibility would drive him mad at this rate.

George had recovered, but he was still at the hospital. He was under strict surveillance. More than once he had tried to rip off the bandages around his wrist. Because that was so, he was admitted to a special ward at St. Mungo's and someone had to always be with him. Even if that last part had never been included, George would never actually be alone.

Fred was always there, even if he couldn't do anything to help.

* * *

When George was released, Fred felt as if his prayers had been answered.

His twin seemed happier. Fred saw him smiling more, even daring to crack a joke or two.

One would think Fred would have noticed the sadness in his brother's eyes every time he looked at the enchanted clock in the kitchen. Or the questioning glances every time he saw something even slightly sharp.

The biggest clue of all that no one seemed to catch was in fact something else about the clock.

George's hand was always pointed at lost.

* * *

It happened again.

This time, it was a closer call than the last. George had barely made it and was currently in a self-induced coma.

Things were worse than the last. His mum was almost bordering on insanity with the simple idea of losing another one of her children. The healers had to sneak a Dreamless Sleep Potion into her drink. Percy continued to blame himself. Bill and Charlie found themselves taking on quite a few leadership roles at home. Ron and Ginny finally stopped avoiding their problems, but both went very different ways with their grief. Ron was hell-bent on destroying anything he could get his hands on and Ginny barely spoke to anyone. She usually grabbed a broom from the shed and flew as high and as far she could. Nothing felt right anymore.

This time, Fred didn't pray.

* * *

George's coma continued all through the winter months.

He was pale and almost completely lifeless. If it weren't for the steady beeping at his bedside, you would think he was dead.

Staying in a hospital room all day was taking Fred's last bit of life. He stole a selfish moment and floated around outside the window looking into George's room.

That's when he saw him.

A white and blue figure flying over head, making snowflakes behind him.  
Curiosity consumed him and he took to the sky, making a silent promise to George that he would return soon. It was barely necessary though; he would always return.

"Oi!" He called out. His voice lacked all the conviction it once had, despite trying to be as confident as he could.

The white-haired boy turned around, an ecstatic smile dazzling his features. At a closer view Fred could see a tiny little fairy-like bird perched on the boy's shoulder.

"Yes?" the boy mused, laying back against his staff.

Fred smiled, a true smile. This was his first interaction with anyone in almost a year. The fact that someone could see him was enough to make the small flame inside him burn just a bit brighter.

The other boy quirked an eyebrow, but his expression formed into one of sympathy.

"No one can see you, can they?" he asked, straitening his stance.

Fred's smile vanished and he simply nodded.

"I know the feeling," he said sadly. "The name's Jack Frost, what's yours?"

"Fred Weasley. Former owner of Weasley's Wizards Wheezes."

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**I really hope I did this justice. I've had this idea for a long time, but only now got the chance to actually write it. What great ideas come from art class :)**

**Remember to review! It would be much appreciated!**

**- Stitch**


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